Page 86 of Disenchanted

“Right you are! Rally the troops!” Arty said excitedly. “The more hands on deck, the better. Miss Hemlock, would you care to join me? We’ll leave Mrs. Blackthorn to find Mr. Dunstan,” he suggested to Bonnie.

The kind witch gave Sage a reassuring nod and told her that she’d be back as soon as she could.

“You, boy, this way,” Arty called back to Casimir, who snatched the last biscuit before hurrying to follow.

“Miss Hemlock,” Arty said softly as they walked back out to the atrium and towards the library, which Sage was most intrigued by the promise of, “I must again apologize for our neglect. I shall never forgive myself for not being able to help you in your time of need. You seem an extremely capable and particularly bright young woman, but I imagine that it is those qualities exactly which ensure that you are often overlooked as to receiving any help or even just a gentle reminder once in a while that you are never alone in your problems.”

Sage liked this man very much. And she never liked anybody this quickly.

“I do hope you’ll remember that Selcouth—not always, but certainly now—is a place of refuge,” the old warlock said kindly. “It is a sanctuary of second chances, a haven of discovery and a second home of understanding. You are most welcome here.”

Sage was again struck by his sincerity. “Thank you,” she said.

Arty seemed to understand that she was not a woman of soft words and gave a satisfied smile that she had taken notice of his promise. “Aha!” he called in a sing-song voice as he pushed open the door to the library, which, Sage was thrilled to note, looked enormous. “Now, Miss Hemlock, the world of witchery may be an uncertain one at times, but there are some things that are almost always guaranteed. At the top of that list is the fact that witches will nearly always be found among books. Perhaps you might enjoy a wander betwixt the shelves, while I see who I may find among them to aid our cause. Please, enjoy! I shall return momentarily.”

Sage’s heart raced at the sight before them. The most incredible far-reaching library of magical texts, access beyond anything she could have dreamed of.

She felt Casimir’s breath at the back of her neck as he leaned in with a whisper. “I think you’re going to fit in here just fine, Specs.”

36

Ever After

With the arrival of Selcouth coven into Port Sylvan, welcome guests in a way that Sage would never have dreamed possible, the fairy tale that held the town in its thrall was soon soothed back to sleep.

Under Bonnie’s skilled Earth Sorcery specialism, the thorns were stripped and coaxed back beneath the ground, returning the flower garden, the community green and the dell to their usual unruffled peace. For a small woman, she also made exceptionally quick work of a very burly beanstalk. The frigid, icy air was warmed back to a more lulled November drizzle—not everything could be perfect, even with magic at the helm. Many hands made light work of the rest too. Costumes and personalities had been among the first elements to gradually fade to reality by themselves, but with assistance, the buildings soon shed their changes too. The rest of the town reconnected with its genuine storybook character, rather than the sinister, supernatural version that had taken hold through October.

There had been an elated reunion with Sage’s brother and sister, the latter of whom launched herself at her so gleefully at the top of the Lyceum that they narrowly missed toppling out the window. Laurel was still yawning a lot and craving an even more obscene amount of sugar than usual. Robin complained of aching, stiff joints every time he had to get up off the couch, but of course it was Casimir who felt the sorriest for himself.

Although he made the quickest recovery, he liked to remind Sage, with a dramatic wince and a pathetic cough, that he had battled the thorns and a dragon to win her heart. She told him that he needn’t have bothered, because he’d managed it the day he gave his third-year seminar on The Ontology of Jinxes, which wasn’t quite the romantic start he was looking for.

The only lasting effect from the spell was Mal’s voice. The cat had absolutely and completely refused to give up his newfound vocal cords, no matter which incantations they tried, and even the coven’s most skilled Animal Affinity expert had been left utterly puzzled by his feline stubbornness, only admitting defeat when the cat took a final, merciless swipe at him. Sage was nothing but proud of her familiar.

She thanked the coven for their assistance and reassured them all, especially Arty, that she would be in touch soon, once she had taken some time to look after herself.

The old warlock had a surprisingly full understanding of Sage’s difficult start to magic and seemed to know a lot about the effects that dark magic could have on a witch’s mind. She was touched that he seemed to be giving her unusual arrival much thought and admired the fair solutions that he continued to put to her—not excuses but logical explanations. Sage had never been greeted by the coven to begin her traditional endarkenment debut, because the darkness that came so soon with the death of her parents had overcome the call of her magic. And Lilara’s curse had blanketed everything, hidden Sage entirely from their gaze. Arty insisted that there was much time and care for Selcouth to make up for, and Sage found she did not recoil at the prospect.

He had not even judged her when she confessed to Selcouth that she had done away with her entire collection of one-of-a-kind, irreplaceable magical artefacts that were probably vital to the coven’s history. They were only too patient and understanding of her actions; it seemed that a few of them had made similarly stupid, rash decisions themselves in the past when it came to magic. A fascinating, time-meandering enchantment cast by a skilled young witch homed in on only the bonfire specifically and rewound the flames to offer up each of the precious items that she had cast into the fire. Everything was spat back out in as good a shape as it had been before and, in some cases, even better than when she had removed it from the archive. Sage wiped away a few happy tears when she returned the final few items to their rightful places on the archive shelves.

It was a convenient discovery that Port Sylvan’s Equinox Gallery did in fact contain another, more permanent door (disguised as a broom cupboard, ironically for witches) which functioned as a direct entrance to Hecate House. The town had long been an entry-point location for their headquarters, given its lingering magical heritage and the ley lines that crossed beneath the gallery. Sage had promised to visit often and would be joining her new friends for Book Club next Thursday.

Halloween had been and gone, but Laurel insisted on a late celebration anyway. It wasn’t fair that she’d slept through her favourite holiday, so naturally, under her instruction, they had spent three days on the finishing touches. The whole town was happily on board, as everyone seemed strangely forgetful as to what they’d been doing on the thirty-first.

“Stop eating the children’s sweets—you’re asking for bad karma,” Sage barked at Laurel from behind the welcome desk as her sister returned from the kitchen, struggling to carry an enormous hollowed-out pumpkin that was overflowing with packets of trick-or-treat sweets.

“I’m not,” Laurel argued, a lollipop sticking out of the side of her mouth.

The museum was the final stop on Port Sylvan’s Hallo-walk, the costume trail for kids which made a snack stop at many spots on the map. Rather unbelievably, the whole concept had come from Sage’s imagination, and she had willingly pitched it at the last town meeting to rapturous applause.

“I still cannot believe your costume. You’re sick, do you know that?” Sage said, gathering up the last of the fake cobwebs to drape over the light fixtures.

Laurel was dressed as a zombie princess. “Too soon?” she asked with a mischievous grin, adjusting her crown. “At least I spent more than Robin did.”

“Don’t hate my thrifty dad talents,” Robin called over from the back cabinet, where he was lighting the last few black and purple pillar candles in antique stands around the place. He was dressed as a mummy and had stolen most of the Dap’s toilet roll supply for the effort. “And you’re sure you still want this here?” he asked Sage sceptically. He gestured at Lilara’s book, which Sage had placed on a wooden display stand in the back corner. “Isn’t it sort of…bad vibes?”

“ ‘Bad vibes,’ Rob? Is that really all you’ve got for that ornament of evil? Need I remind you that I fought a dragon while you were both climbing trees and taking a nap? Ow,” Casimir said. Sage had whacked him over the head affectionately with a plastic skull. “I’m on your side. Burn it, if you ask me.”

“I tried.” Sage shrugged.